The Death Play
by ayamekaizumi
Summary: There are sacrifices behind every deals. [Theater!AU] Rated T for some explicit actions


_The world I was living in was dark and cruel._

 _Nobody seemed to care about each other's personal life and problem–and everyone was walking on their own feet._

 _All they cared about is themselves. Their own life was the only thing they treasured the most._

 _I too, have been living in this kind of world for years, and yet I find it difficult to get used to it._

 _It might be okay if you're good looking or smart, or if you have lots of money to cover your life with._

 _It might be okay if you have the ability to defend yourself, or strength to get things you want by force._

 _Truth to be told, I do have those things._

 _However, there are things I have to sacrifice–to get what I want_

 _But that's okay._

 _For I've always wanted to be in the same stage, standing by the spotlight…_

 _Taking the role I've always wanted to have._

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 **The Death Play**  
 **Kuroko no Basuke © Tadatoshi Fujimaki**  
 **Story © Ayame Kaizumi**  
 **I do not gain any profits by writing this fanfiction.**

 **Warning:** story will contain some literature works, either from Shakespeare or Agatha Christie. May contain typo(s) and possible OOCs. Theater!AU

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 _"_ _To die:–to sleep:  
No more; and by a sleep to say we end  
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks  
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wished."_

"You're doing awesome!"

"Oh my, how could you be so excellent in it?"

"You must be practicing a lot–no, it's like you're born to be an actor!"

Lots of compliments were echoing thorough the large hall the moment he finished his role as Hamlet.

The redhead–Akashi Seijuuro–said nothing but flashed a smile in response. He looked calm and collected, but he was so proud of himself in fact.

Being an actor was his dream–it always was. Since he was a kid, his father often took him to theaters, watching those professional actors and actresses onstage–playing a wonderful play of Shakespeare's Hamlet.

The beauty of every words they spoke, the freedom of every movements they did… oh, how he wanted to be one of them.

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"Seijuuro, have you ever thought of being an actor?"

His red orbs went wide at his father's question. "An… actor?"

Akashi Masomi nodded. "You like being onstage, don't you? I've heard you reading some scenes of 'And There was None' during these days."

Seijuuro couldn't help but blushed. It was true that he was trying to do the role of Anthony Marston in his room. However, he wasn't expecting his father–of all people–to overheard him.

"I will introduce you to one of my relatives. He happens to be a director of a famous theater group." His father said, sipping his glass of wine. "However, you have to pass the audition. Since you're responsible of keeping our family's reputation. Are you okay with that?"

For a while, Seijuuro hesitated. He hated the fact that his family was so famous that he had to be successful in anything he involved in.

However, the offer of being an actor did interest him. It really did.

"I'm okay with that… father."

And so he agreed.

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 _"_ _Oh, I'm not afraid of death!  
What have I got to live for after all?  
I suppose you believe it's very wrong to kill a person who has injured you–"_

"Stop."

Akashi frowned the moment his play was cut midway. He was trying his best when he mouthed the part written in Agatha Christie's play: _Death on the Nile._

However…

"I'm so sorry, Seijuuro," Kiyoshi Teppei–the chief producer–said, "but you cannot take the role. At least not for now."

Akashi–who was still out of breath–panted out, "what?"

"You cannot take the role." Kiyoshi repeated. "Your articulation is good. But you still lack in expression." He let out a long sigh. "You need to practice more. Your current performance is not good enough."

"But my father–"

"Your father has nothing to do with your audition. Whether or not you pass is because you have abilities. Not money. Being a good friend with your father doesn't mean I can go easy on his son." An apollogetic smile was shown afterwards. "I'm so sorry."

Akashi dropped his bundle of script in shock. "No… you can't–"

"Akashi, you're so young and talented." Kiyoshi tried to motivate the young child onstage. "You have so many chances waiting for you."

He stood up, giving another comforting smile. "I'm waiting for your future progress. I'm still Masaomi's friend in any ways, so feel free to contact me." And with that, he left the theatre, leaving Seijuuro alone.

 _It can't be… You're not allowed to do this! I'm Akashi Seijuuro! You can't treat me like this!_ He reflectively balled his palms into fists, trembling.

He stared at the seats in front of him blankly. It was impossible for him to go home now. He would not want to imagine the worst possibility when he told his father he failed. He never–once again, _never_ –failed before.

"The director told me I was lacking in expression," he mumbled. "I thought I was doing my best." He couldn't stop his hand from trembling.

"I can help you," a voice suddenly came from his back, followed by a soft footsteps.

Seijuuro turned his back to see who was talking, and gasped when he saw someone he had never seen before.

The person was wearing a costume, and the face was hidden behind a white mask.

"Who… are you?" he asked.

"My name and identity is not important," said the mysterious man–yes, it's a 'he'–as he approached the redhead. "I heard that you want this role so bad?" he took the script and read it.

"Not just the role. I want to be an actor." Seijuuro said.

There was an awkward silence, before the mysterious man finally spoke up, "so you really want to be an actor."

"Yes."

"As I was saying, I can help you with that."

Somehow Seijuuro could feel that the man was smiling behind his mask. "And how is that?" he asked cautiously.

"As long as you have a strong will–a very strong one–I can make it possible."

"I think I want it so bad." Seijuuro mumbled, which was audible to the mysterious person. "I don't think there's anyone in this world who wants to be an actor as much as I do."

"Are you willing to do anything for the price?"

"I–" Seijuuro was being hesitant for a while. Now he was really curious. Who was this man and what could he do?

However, there was something in that mysterious masked man that was able to make Seijuuro believe in him.

"Yes, I am."

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 _3 months later..._

"This speeding's all wrong–all wrong. Young men like you are a danger to the community."

The spotlight moved to a group of men dressed in suit, sitting on a sofa. Seijuuro–also being one of the group–sat gracefully on the corner.

"Well, I couldn't help it. Just an accident,"

"Why don't you telephone to the mainland?"

"There's no telephone. Fred Narracot, he comes over every morning, sir. He brings the milk and the bread and the post and the papers, and takes the orders,"

"A bit unsporting, what? Ought to ferret out the mystery before we go," Seijuuro took his drink, flashing a thin smile. "Whole thing's like a detective story. Positively thrilling."

"At my time of life, I have no desire for thrills."

"The legal life's narrowing. I'm all for crime," he raised his glass. "Here's to it." He drank it off at a gup. His face looked like he was about to choke, and ended up slipping onto the sofa as his glass fell from his hand. Every movement he made was elegant yet tragic.

There was a short silence before everyone in the theater applaused. It was just a rehearsal, but lots of people were willing to come from afar just to see the famous young actor–Akashi Seijuuro.

"That was splendid!" the director shouted out. "Seijuuro, I never thought that you would be able to be this great."

Seijuuro stood up from the sofa and smiled, "I take it as a compliment, Sir."

"Seriously, you're almost as great as the previous actor," his playmate–Kise Ryouta–patted him on his back, laughing jokingly. "If only he's still alive, we won't be able to find an actor as briliant as you are."

The same smile remained on Akashi's face once the entire crews had already left. His hand moved to his left eye.

 _Yes, if only he was still alive… I would never get this role._

 _._

 _._

"Akashi-cchi,"

He quickly turned his head to find Kise staring at him.

"What is it?" _I thought everyone was leaving._

"I knew that there was something weird about you," he walked closer to the redhead. "You were considered as a failure, but you turned into someone else the day after."

"What are you talking about?" Seijuuro glared at his playmate. "Calling me as 'a failure'… that's not so nice, Ryouta."

"I was just thinking that your father has anything to do with your excellent performance," a tiny grin was shown on Kise's face. "You don't want me to report about this to the director, do you?"

"Go ahead and tell him," Seijuuro shrugged. "Since my father didn't do anything."

"But how could you improve that much in one day?" Kise tilted his head. "And _how could the previous actor die before you auditioned for his role_?"

"That's none of your business." Now Seijuuro's voice started to shatter. "And don't accuse me on someone's death like."

"Oh, of course it's my business. It's not like actors die everyday." Kise patted his shorter company on his shoulder. "I could've been better, smarter, more talented than you, and _you_ ruined my dream."

Seijuuro's eyes grew wide, but he said nothing.

"It looks like the handsome face of yours is so important." The tiny grin of Kise's turned into a scary wide smile. "Then I'll be the one to destroy it." Out of a sudden, he pulled out a knife and aimed for the redhead's face.

Seijuuro, however, didn't seem at least scared–although the knife left a wide scar across his left cheek.

 _So I just have to do it again, don't I_?

"Well," Kise grinned, amused by how the redhead didn't seem to have any fear in what he had done. "This is going to be more interesting."

Seijuuro was just staring in him, taking a deep breath as he did so. The blood was dripping from his cheek to his chin, but he didn't seem to care.

"Say goodbye to your pretty face!" with a grunt, he threw out a knife towards Seijuuro's face.

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 _3 months_ ago...

 _"_ _So how much money do you want?"_

 _"_ _I do not trade by money," he smiled behind the mask. "I want something precious from you."_

 _Seijuuro blinked. "Something precious…?"_

 _"_ _I will turn you into the Prince of the Theater, Akashi Seijuuro. But only if you agree to give me souls."_

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"What… was that?" Kise walked back, horror was painted all over his expression.

Seijuuro had somehow stopped the knife with his fingers while standing still.

"Do you I'll be vanished so easily?" the redhead's voice somehow sounded different. "Is that what you're thinking, _Ryouta_?"

Kise's golden orbs went wide once he heard Seijuuro was calling him by his given name–something he had never done before.

"Akashi-cchi–" he managed to speak. "–what do you think you're doing?"

A strange smile spread across Seijuuro's face as he replied, "I'm just cleaning this place from termites."

" _How dare you calling me a termite_!"

Once he had pulled himself together, Kise leaped towards Seijuuro, pinning him on the floor. "No one is allowed to call me a lowlife," he said through his gritted teeth. "I was about to spare your life, but now you have to die!" He took the knife, trying to stab the redhead right on the heart.

The two of them were fighting onstage–although it was more like a one-sided fight (because all Seijuuro did was dodging and evading Kise's attack).

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 _"_ _He is the exact replica of the former actor."_

 _"_ _I know, right? The way they act onstage is almost the same."_

 _"_ _Don't you feel that it was scary to know that he died already?"_

 _"_ _You mean…"_

 _"_ _I'm not sure how to say it, but it feels like his soul moved to Akashi-san's body."_

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 _2 months ago..._

 _The moment Seijuuro saw Kise onstage, he was stunned. They are at the same age, and yet Kise performed perfectly well. How he pronounced every words from Kobayashi Issa's haiku…_

 _"_ _On the Death of his Child  
Dew Evaporates  
And all our world is dew...so dear,  
So fresh, so fleeting"_

 _It sounded lonely, but at the same time it was beautiful. He loved being at the same play with Kise, and he enjoyed being around him._

 _There were times of when Seijuuro was thinking about Kise and his talent._

I always adore him. I always do.

If only I can have his talent…

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Akashi panted out, blood was dripping from his entire face. He never thought that Kise was that strong.

"Seijuuro- _kun_?" the voice of Hyuuga–the director's assistant–startled him. "I thought you have left."

His expression changed when he saw Akashi's injuries.

"What happened? Did someone do any harm to you?"

Akashi blinked–as if trying to regain his focus–before flashing his usual smile.

"I was just… eliminating a termite. A pretty strong one."

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"The performance is about to start in 10 minutes, Akashi- _san_ ," Hayama Kotarou told him.

Akashi said nothing but nodded. It seemed like he was reading something.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good," without even looking at the figuran, Akashi waved his hand. "I need to be alone."

Fully knowing what he meant, Hayama left without saying anything.

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"He's getting weirder, isn't he?"

"You mean Akashi- _san_?"

His friend–Izuki Shun–nodded. "It was only a month when he started joining the theater, and yet there's something strange about him."

"I know," Hayama sighed. "Anyway, he never likes reading poems, right?"

"I guess."

"But this is the first time I saw him reading a collection of Kobayashi Issa's haikus."

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 _Even with insects-  
some can sing,  
some can't._

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He felt happy.

How could he not? Being a well-known star was his dream, and now he had already become one. Being onstage was thrilling. Being under the spotlight was somehow able to make him shine even more.

There were times when Akashi felt a sudden pain on his face. Especially his left eye. It hurt so much that it felt like burning.

 _It must be from the fight,_ was his thought on this whole time.

However, after the incident with Kise, he felt no more pain. He remembered the first time he felt the pain was when he met the former actor, on the day he failed his first audition.

A knock on the door woke him up from his thoughts.

"Akashi- _san_ , the show's about to start."

Oh well, better concertrating on the play than thinking about the stupid possibilities.

"I'm ready."

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The audience were unable to set their eyes off the stage, for they were witnesses of what they could call a miracle.

This boy – Akashi Seijuuro – had anything that anyone could ever imagine: wealth, beauty, talent… and of all things: pride.

The moment Akashi said his monologue, the audience were enchanted by the words. It felt like he turned into someone different. The way he acted, the way he spoke…

It felt like he was asking the audience to participate in the stage where he – and he alone – was standing at.

The performance ended with a loud applause from the whole audience.

Even the crews were praising the young redhead once the theater curtains had been set down.

"You're doing good!"

"Oh my, how could you be so great in it?"

"You must be practicing a lot!"

Akashi could only smile in response, since he knew the truth of his ability.

He never practiced. He never did.

All he was doing is just staring at the script, memorizing it, and he could feel that something _else_ was moving him.

He didn't know how, but he knew one thing:

It was not him who was performing on the stage all this time.

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The audience was still mumbling about how great the young actor was.

"He was amazing, wasn't he?"

"I was drawn into his performance. What a prodigy!"

"I wonder if there's something that he can't do."

Between the seats, a lone person was just sitting, without even joining the conversation of the crowd.

However, he was smiling. A smile so wide it could reach his ears.

"I'm so proud of you," he mumbled.

"Akashi-cchi, I'm so proud of you."

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 **END**

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 **a/n  
** I really hope that you would be able to enjoy my oneshot. I may admit that the plot is moving too fast-with an ambiguous ending.  
So how do you see the story? Is it enjoyable? Is it boring? I'm looking for a good and motivating critics.

 **Xoxo,  
Ayame**


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